In Noctem
by night is bitter
Summary: A black book. A flash of light. An empty castle. War hero Hermione Granger is sent tumbling back to a time when war is a memory, ghosts of the battle live again, and her only way back has a time limit. Desperate to return home, Hermione needs the help of a certain potions master, and finds herself equally, strangely desperate to stay.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

 _Crack. Crack. Crack. So much pain, so much red; it's everywhere, from my head to my hands and the marble floor where I lay crumpled in a heap. The halls...the halls are, normal. No this is wrong, it used to be right but now it's wrong, so wrong. My head, MY BLOODY HEAD! How can you feel everything but still feel so numb? I don't understand I can't mov-UGH LET ME MOVE. I must be dreaming, it can't be you, your dead; you were kind, manipulative and now you're dead so let me escape my mind. Stop speaking my ears won't listen, can't listen for all the BLOOD. PLEASE. Let you read my eyes as I plead with you wholeheartedly without words. No. Now I'm definitely dreaming. Or I could be dead? Where in Merlin's name am-THE PAIN someone make it stop please! He's reaching out for me, move now for god's sake MOVE! At last, I clutch his robes, his eyes lose their soft gleam of kindness and I croak._

" _Not him. Please." And as I turn to the man we all knew to be so great, the last thing I see is his infamous glare before I'm suffocated by the darkness and I see no more._

— _ **12 years later—**_

Despite the rubble, ash, and the underlying stench of blood and death that lingered along the rest of the grounds, Severus Snape's quarters seemed to smell relatively normal. It was almost as if there had never been a war; and that loss and sleepless nights had never met the old headmaster's rooms. Hermione wondered if she should even think of him with such a title: Headmaster. No matter what he'd done the Gryffindor would remember him as the sour Potions Professor who skulked in the dungeons, cutting himself off from anyone and everyone in sight. Hermione ran her hands through her hair and sighed. She took brief comfort in the nearest chair, before realising how many great minds had sat where she had...Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster Dippet and many others that Hermione could recount from the list that _Hogwarts: A History_ had she didn't deserve to sit on the chair, the young woman rose again, dusting off whatever imprint she may have left on the furniture.

Hermione was about to ask herself why she was even in Severus Snape's quarters, putting some of his lesser important belongings in boxes that would be stored away or thrown, well the answer was simple. Neither Ron nor Harry were to be trusted, and no matter what Snape had done for them all, she knew the two boys didn't have the respect or maturity to go through his things without letting the odd comment break through the barrier of mind to mouth. There were other students of course, other adults too – but Hermione knew it was best to do it for her old potions professor. The girl wouldn't pass judgement, even months after the war; she was too tired to do so.

After the battle, Harry wanted to help reconstruct the castle straight away, rebuild for the damage he thought he'd caused. Of course, Hermione noted, Harry would instantly put the blame on himself, as if it was he who ordered the Death Eaters to destroy the grounds of Hogwarts. He was eager, and while she appreciated it, Professor McGonagall told him no. The castle, and everyone else, needed time to breathe – and to heal. Of course she was right, Minerva always was, and Hogwarts, along with its student body, had slowly begun to mourn and repair. Hermione hadn't changed that much, the angles of her body were still sharp from lack of food, and her complexion had paled from such an unhealthy lifestyle with very little sleep. Resting night after night in a tent had done her back no favours, and sometimes she found that she preferred a hard, cold surface – to the comforts of a plush, warm bed. It made sense...sometimes, when Hermione thought about it but she didn't like to think. Or to sleep. Sleeping meant nightmares, and nightmares usually came in the form of death, blood and blank eyes staring as she grazed against death, narrowly escaping. Her punishment for such a thing meant she had to watch many people die night after night, as if seeing them perish in the battle wasn't haunting enough. After attending funeral after funeral Hermione found herself wearing black on a daily basis, her feet sore from the heels she suffered through as she listened to how many short lives had come to such a bitter end. How they had left fighting for their cause, and that we would remember them all. Hermione's eyes would always narrow, because it was a lie. Eventually people would go on with their lives, and when all the students from the battle perished, those people wouldn't be remembered anymore. In years to come some student would see Lavender Brown's name on a plaque in the courtyard and wonder who she was, and that she can't have been that great if she didn't make the history books. But Lavender, like so many others, was great! Hermione wanted to make it her mission to give those people, some mere children, recognition.

Almost a year later and Hermione still thought of those people often. She had categorised each of them in her mind, recalled everything she could about the ones she knew, and insisted on investigating those she didn't. Her brain became a library of the deceased, with an individual eulogy she had planned attached to every single one. She wanted to change memories too. Why should Severus Snape's war efforts be defined by a woman he loved? Not just any woman either, a woman with hair like fire and eyes that sparkled like her son's – Lily Potter. Severus Snape was never known to anyone as an emotional man, he had always been so very private. Instead of what the former spy deserved, he was given fortnightly articles about his good natured soul and that he was the closest thing to Gryffindor a slytherin had ever seen. Hermione took that as an insult. Not just to the professor's house, but also to her own. Even after so many years Hogwarts rivalry still thrived and divided a castle that was already broken. Personally, Hermione didn't want Severus Snape anywhere near the Gryffindor house. He was too calculative, sly and cunning. He did not go out of his way openly caring and defending everyone to the end. He was not a bad person, Hermione knew that, but he had certainly done some very bad things.

Hermione broke from her mental monologue to look at what she'd already put away, the list included a lot of black robes that were laced with the scent of herbs, potions and smoke. Did the old potions professor smoke? Her question was answered several pockets later when she found a stash of cigarettes once tucked away, then scattered across the floor in a moment of clumsiness. His bad habits and plain clothing were neatly packed away into a box. Following those were the books Hermione already owned, she planned on borrowing the ones she'd never read- there were certainly a few. It wasn't stealing, he wasn't alive to reclaim them, and she planned on giving them to Professor McGonagall once she'd done. Hermione Granger would never rob a dead man, not even of his books.

Moving along to the draws by his desk, Hermione found herself staring back at a picture of a woman with limp hair that matched his own, similar attire, but a smaller nose. She also wore a smile, as did the little boy looking up at her. The Gryffindor choked back a sob, knowing she was looking upon the Professor and his mother. He couldn't have been any older than four in the photograph, as he wrapped his arms around her middle, and she bent down for him to reach. It was strange, to look back at the monotone photo, and see her own professor...small. Even more peculiar that he wore a grin. She'd seen him smirk in delight whenever slytherin won a game of quidditch or if he ever had the fortune in giving Harry a detention. In his younger, fresher face Severus held no trace of a smirk but rather brief, genuine happiness. The young woman wondered who had taken the photo, and even more importantly...what she was going to do with it. Hermione could not throw the memento away. It had meant something to someone once, and it was historical. The only proof that Severus Snape could smile! The Gryffindor decided to keep it in her bag that was laced with an undetectable extension charm. Given that the spell was cast in a time of war, no law was being broken, and Hermione felt no need to bring it to the attention of the government. She counted it as the only other good thing that had come from her year of fighting. Besides Voldemort's demise, of course. Underneath the photo were vials of dreamless sleep, a few calming draughts and other concoctions that he'd undoubtedly created himself. Every part of her longed to know what they were, the mysterious liquids of black, cobalt and silver, so she carried them with her – knowing she could sit and analyse them later.

Hermione opened the next draw, though her attention lay elsewhere as her stomach growled in defiance. She knew it was time to find the two boys and grab her food, but she was determined to clean out the Professor's drawers before she left for dinner. Returning to the task at hand, Hermione's eyes dropped to the object before her. A very plain, black, simple book. It didn't appear to be anything special – but the Gryffindor knew Slytherins were famous for their subtlety. It was no doubt a book of connections, details of Voldemort's meetings or something possibly more interesting of much larger value. Did Hermione want to read it? Truthfully a small part of her did. Her eyes begged to look over every word three times over, memorising all of the professor's thoughts and information that could be held. The more sensible part of Miss Granger knew that it was rude to read through someone's notes, and instead wanted to dispose of it in case any journalist or nosy student came into contact with such an object. With that in mind Hermione snatched the book from its original resting place, battling her inner desires to immerse herself in whatever lay inside.

"No Granger. For god's sake get a hold of yourself!" She said aloud, in the hope that some of it would sink in. Instead before she knew it her hand delicately turned the cover, the paper presenting her with – nothing. Every page was blank. It was at this point that Hermione decided it was best to give up, and so she made to leave. The castle seemed to have other ideas. The door slammed shut behind her.

Hermione spun on her heel. With the last dregs of death eater scum on the run and the wards of the castle down, anyone could be inside – and they may not want her...to leave. She firmly gripped her wand that had been inside her back pocket, but found that there was no one in the room ready to attack; it was what she was holding that Hermione had to worry about.

The old book she had in her hand began to glow and shake violently, vaguely similar to a portkey. Where was it sending her? Was she going to end up in Malfoy Manor? Or would she find herself overpowered in a Death Eater's hideout? Either way Hermione doubted she'd find herself safely whisked off to The Three Broomsticks with a pint of butterbeer waiting for her by the bar. She found herself almost imitating the book, a tint of gold seemed to radiate from her skin, almost lighting up the room. Mere seconds passed, and Hermione Granger left the room with a deafening crack, one that ripped through the entire castle and eventually, time itself.

 **12 years earlier**

Severus Snape had been stuck in the Headmaster's office for almost an hour, and in that time he'd thought of twelve different deaths which would be less painful than the discussion that was currently underway. The dark lord had been gone for five years, the trials were over, so why the Headmaster thought it was still relevant and that Severus had to find out all he could, the slytherin couldn't understand it.

"Headmaster I shall speak to Lucius about what we discussed now may we-" Severus began, but was interrupted by a large crack and a blood curdling scream. The two didn't even speak; they rushed from their chairs to outside the headmaster's office to see where the noise was coming from. There were only four people in the entire school, Severus, the Headmaster, Hagrid, and Argus Filch with his newest pet _Mrs Norris._ Severus was fairly certain that the half giant nor squib could scream at such a pitch, so it had to be someone else. Who? He had no idea.

Just outside the office, both Albus and the potions professor were met with a ghastly slight. The girl seemed to be drenched in her own blood; the crimson had begun to seep through her clothing in such a short space of time. No one could apparate to Hogwarts, not even in the summer, so the girl's entrance was quite the mystery. Severus wondered why Albus hadn't sent off a patronus to Poppy immediately so that she could heal the girl. He was wasting very valuable time! Instead, the old man leaned forward to the girl whose eyes seemed to be the only active part of her body, as they crazily darted between the two men before her. As he leaned in the woman almost sprung to life, her blood soaked nails gripped the headmaster's robes and she croaked,

"Not him. Please." And not once did she take her eyes off of Severus, until she slipped away – hopefully unconscious, as the only other alternative – was death.


	2. Chapter 2

**_a/n - hey guys! I hope you enjoyed chapter one! Since I'll be going on holiday, my aim is to get chapter 3 - and maybe four to you before I go (which is on saturday.) This is my first snamione novel, and the first novel I've written since I was about 14 (so a very long time ago!) I hope you like this chapter and if you have time, I hope you can leave a review._**

 ** _3rd May 1998_**

 _Blood was everywhere; the castle reeked of it. Staff and students were pale with rubble, the grey and red splashed against their skin. Eyes were wide, but heavy with the need for sleep. Hermione had worked with other staff members such as Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall to help and heal the older ones that had stayed to fight. Harry had insisted that he and some of the others would help find any that hadn't made it or were fighting for their lives in the rubble. Voldemort may have given them some time to collect the dead and heal others, but it wasn't enough. Some were still lost, and Harry wanted to find them. It was his way of apologising, and Hermione was too weak to argue. Instead she threw herself into helping the others, made lists of what was needed, helped Professor Slughorn in making the correct potions, and passed them on to the new Headmistress and Matron to feed to the wounded. When she wasn't doing that she was bandaging wounds, doing things the muggle way until Madam Pomfrey could assist. The young woman wasn't sure how much use she actually was, but to sit and listen to the sobs or even worse, the silence of some people...it was enough to drive her mad. She was bandaging Cho Chang's arm and half listening to her chatter before someone grabbed Hermione's shoulder. It was enough to make her reach for her wand, but looking back at her was Ronald Weasley, with rubble splattered against his bright red hair, and a sad half smile resting on his face._

 _"It's just me Hermione. I was wondering if when you were done we could...er." He began, his voice starting to waver. Cho nodded, insisting someone else could finish the bandaging and Hermione reluctantly left her post walking along the disjointed corridors of Hogwarts._

 _"When me and Harry were...out there, we found Lavender. She, I mean, I didn't love her like that but bloody hell it was," The redhead ran a hand through his hair, lost for words. Hermione seemed to be able to put two and two together though, as always._

 _"It must've been difficult. I understand Ron. I think we need to talk about what happened before, in the chamber." The Gryffindor stated, her voice was soft – she didn't want to fight, but the memory had been playing on her mind since the battle had ended. Did she really want to start a relationship now? Had the war thrown them together? Did she truly know who she was; did she know what Hermione Jean Granger wanted?_

 _"Erm yeah, that's what I wanted to talk about too." He said solemnly, his eyes dropping to the floor. Did he feel the same? Was it just a reaction to the walls of Hogwarts crumbling around them? Did they both just need a small taste of happiness in case it had to end before it had begun?_

 _"I just think we need time Ron, I don't know what I want anymore...if this is what I want. You do understand don't you? You're one of my closest friends and I love you for that, but I need to know if I want more." Her words were laced with confusion and sadness, and they spoke volumes to the youngest Weasley boy._

 _"Yeah, I feel the same. I just- there's a lot going on. We've lost Fred, Mum's in bits," he began but Hermione didn't want to see her best friend cry, instead she rested her hand on his shoulder as he had before and smiled._

 _"Ron, I know." And he pulled her into a brief embrace, Hermione knew that their relationship had been over before it began and Ron would find a girl he liked eventually. But he was right, he needed to focus on his family first._

 ** _10_** ** _th_** ** _August 1987_**

Hermione's eyes shot open instantly, and she was greeted with a blurred image of the Hospital Wing and a pounding in her ears loud enough to make them bleed. As she slowly regained her sight, the young woman scrambled for her wand when her eyes met none other than the late Albus Dumbledore.

"My dear lady, you needn't fear me. Here is your wand." He spoke softly before handing it back to the young woman, who still pointed it in his direction. Truth be told she was far too weak to cast any sort of spell properly, but Hermione didn't want him thinking for one second that she trusted this apparition.

"You're not real." She stated, her voice dry and cracked. It was then she realised she was in dire need of a drink. At present her mouth longed for the sweet burn of some firewhiskey, but at this point – water would suffice. The Headmaster waited for her to finish drinking before he continued.

"And yet, here I am." He replied, smiling at her. It couldn't be real, Hermione was absolutely certain her mind had imagined the entire thing.

"You're dead." She blurted, her chin stubbornly set along with the harsh truth of her words. His smile did not fade; in fact the old man chuckled.

"Ah. My dear, I have then come to two conclusions. Either, you have escaped from a nearby asylum or in fact, you are not from our world." Hermione looked at him with curiosity, she certainly wasn't mad...not from his world? Where was she?! Limbo?

"I do have one question, if that's quite alright. Who marred you with such an unforgiving slur?" He said, before gesturing to her arm which had _mudblood_ sliced into it by none other than the long dead Lady Lestrange.

"Bellatrix Lestrange. She's not here too is she?" Hermione eyed the room suspiciously; if this was a hiding place for the dead it was best that she be prepared.

"Thankfully Madam Lestrange is no longer a student here. When did she do this to you?" He asked, perplexed at how such a criminal act had gone unnoticed. Had there been others, or did Bellatrix Lestrange harbour personal hatred for the poor girl?

"When the snatchers took us to Malfoy Manor, I'm not sure when exactly just that it was early last year." To this the Headmaster raised an eyebrow.

"I must say my dear that is quite impossible. Bellatrix Lestrange is still in Azkaban, as she was the year before." He informed Hermione, and such a statement caused her to sit up. She had been there, she'd felt the cruciatus curse kill her insides as she'd been tortured by the vile, evil woman.

"But sir, she escaped in 1995, you must remember...the entire thing was pinned on Sirius!" She exclaimed, and using the little strength she had, her arms flailed as she explained.

"Ah." He said once more, clearly he knew something she didn't, and Hermione was waiting rather impatiently. She wanted to demand the right to know what was going on, who had sent her to this god forsaken place, where the castle seemed to be perfect, and Dumbledore and Snape were still alive...Snape! He hadn't seen her scar had he?! She didn't want anyone seeing it, it was bad enough that Dumbledore had to view it.

"Who else has seen this?! Who...brought me here?!"

"I brought you here, only I have treated you, which was your request if you do recall. Severus gave me the correct potions, and I administered them to you." Dumbledore added, causing Hermione to think back to her abrupt, rather dramatic arrival. The last thing she recalled was touching the book, before feeling like every one of her bones had been snapped and reconstructed, and that her blood was slowly being drained from already broken body. Oh yes, she'd looked into those black eyes and told him to leave. Hermione couldn't see him or speak to him, because she knew all she had to offer was pity to a man that didn't want or need it. Not only that, but if he was there because she was left to sort through his things after he'd died, then she didn't want to hear how terribly she was doing.

"I...thank you, Sir. And please, say thank you to Professor Snape for me." She replied, completely lost at what to say.

"It was no trouble." And out of the shadows skulked the dungeon bat. Hermione quickly pulled the sheet over her arm, hoping that he hadn't caught sight of her ugly scar. It was bad enough that the headmaster had seen it; she didn't want anyone else pitying her – just as he wouldn't want any pity from her.

"Ah Severus, please do sit. Now that you're here I can tell the young lady what conclusion I have come to. My dear, the date you mentioned...1995 has confirmed my fears. You are not from our world, or more specifically our time. These dates and events are yet to happen. We're currently in 1987, not too far from your own time...but far enough."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, praying it was all a dream and that she'd just passed out from hunger and would soon wake in the headmaster's old quarters. She had no idea what to say where to go...she was stuck in a time before her own, where she was flourishing in primary school, securing her place as school swot, and also a loner. She'd shown a few signs of magic in 1987, but her parents had ignored them. She was not an adult in this time, and the fact that somewhere in England was another Hermione Granger was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"Is your name of importance?" The headmaster asked, breaking her from her most recent track of thoughts. Hermione thought about it, being wanted muggleborn number one, a relatively bright one at that, and one of Harry Potter's closest friends...yes it was. However she did not want anyone to know the part she played, if what was happening was _real_ then Hermione had to make sure everything remained as it was.

"Every name is of importance." She replied bitterly.

"In which case I must request that you choose a new name for yourself, so that we have something we may call you from now on. While you have made it clear that I shall meet my end sooner rather than later, I must ask that you keep any other information to yourself, other than the political climate before you left." Of course he wanted to know. The great puppeteer needed to know which strings to pull.

"We were at war with Voldemort's followers the year before, it's over now – but our world is still suffering." She informed the two men, in a report like manner.

"The result?" The potions master asked, his voice giving away no hint of emotion. He'd finally broke his silence, and the headmaster glanced over at his companion who had spoken at long last.

"We won, but at a great cost...many great costs." She responded, and Severus nodded – Hermione could only assume that he was relieved. The lion did not wish to tell the spy that he would perish just to save Lily's son, and wizarding Britain.

"Well enough of that, Severus, if you could please give myself and the young lady a moment, I shall speak with you later." He smiled; a gesture that would go unmatched by the potions professor.

"Of course Headmaster, I only arrived to deliver the potions you required. This must be taken in three hours time, and then once more before you sleep. This must be taken now, all of it. Headmaster, miss-" He stopped, remembering that Hermione hadn't given his name, so he had no idea how to address her.

"Helena Groves. I've just decided. Unless the name's too common or..." Hermione was unsure. She'd only chosen the name because it sounded very similar to her own. Perhaps it was too muggleborn. Ugh, what on earth was she thinking?! Too muggleborn, she'd have whatever name she liked, it didn't matter how it sounded.

"Excellent, well thank you Severus, and thank you Miss Groves – I shan't take up much more of your time." He then waited until the slytherin had left, and the two lions were alone in the hospital wing once again.

"Now Miss Groves, I must know, what was your role in the war?" It wasn't a demanding question; the headmaster didn't push for it. However, she knew that if she hesitated the soft and kind hearted demeanour he had presented up until the present moment would disappear.

"I was part of the order. I was a newer addition, and because of my heritage I spent a lot of time on the run...with Harry Potter. We, and the rest of the faculty brought down you know who. But our victory came at a price. We lost many. I don't want Professor Snape, or anyone else for that matter, knowing my true identity or the part I played. It would be unwise. However Professor Snape already knows where I'm from, so I would like to present him with another story...if he asks. That I fled the country perhaps? It avoids a lot of unnecessary questions." Hermione offered to the headmaster, whose eyes lit up at the mention of Harry. Had she said too much? Perhaps not, it may have been the reason that the headmaster spent so much time with Harry, because he knew how important he would be in the years to come. Either way, the young woman was still uncertain of whether the entire situation was her imagination playing silly tricks, she didn't know what to think.

"Yes, I agree that your silence may be best. If Severus asks, you fled to America perhaps? Of course there's Canada and Switzerland too. All three were very quiet in our first wizarding war, and Tom showed very little interest in them." Hermione nodded, before reaching for the potion that her old professor had instructed her to drink. She hoped it would replace the bitter taste of copper in her mouth, she didn't even stop to analyse it before drinking.

At this point, the headmaster stood, ready to take his leave.

"Now I suggest that you get some rest, Miss Groves, for the next time we speak we will have much more to discuss."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - I'm so sorry this has taken so long guys! I've been really busy & uni started up again so I had no muse for this at all D: For those of you who are interested, this will be a slow burn snamione, but so no one loses interest I will try to throw in some 'moments' alongside the main plot (until snamione becomes the main plot.). Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this - I'd love to hear what you think, and the next chapter shouldn't take as long! **

To say that Severus was irritated by the new arrival by _Helena Groves_ would be quite an understatement. August had barely settled and the young man found himself trapped in the castle. It was no better than the bleak surroundings that were waiting for him at Spinners' End. However, Severus was not a healer, and he did not make potions at the Headmaster's beck and call, or _hers._ He already served two masters, and was not in need of a third. A week had passed since the woman's strange arrival, and she had, at long last, been taken off the majority of her potions. The slytherin did keep a bottle of dreamless sleep by her bedside if she so desired to take it. She never did. Instead on the few occasions she did sleep, her face said much more than the brief words she spoke.

Severus had been on the wrong side of the war, and knew that these were nightmares that some of _his people_ had induced. Perhaps even himself. Her nightmares were a reminder to him that although he had been exonerated by the Wizards' Council, Severus Snape was indeed a death eater, and therefore a guilty man.

Eventually Miss Groves decided to confront him about the potion he kept by her bed, much to Severus' misfortune.

"You need it." The young man replied bluntly when she had asked why, before rambling on about dreamless sleep addictions and Merlin knew what else. She was almost suggesting that a potions master was clueless on the topic, and it infuriated him.

"Why do you think I need it?!" She demanded while setting her chin defiantly, another trait of hers that irked him so. Severus wanted no part in this argument that Miss Groves had actively sought out, and enjoyed infuriating her further by repeating,

"You need it." She sat up in bed, arms folded and eyes narrowed, but no words accompanied her. And so Severus took his leave to the dungeons, finding whatever peace he could before the Headmaster would most likely call for him once more.

Days after her brief encounter with Severus Snape, Hermione couldn't take the sight of the hospital wing any longer. She was in desperate need of answers and the comfort of familiar surroundings, so naturally Hermione headed for the library.

Surrounding herself in piles of articles and books on time travel theories, the Gryffindor became more and more aware of how complicated her situation was, and how her return could lead to many outcomes. It could be impossible, she could age twelve years after returning, she could die….or nothing could happen at all. The latter being the most ideal but also the most suspicious. How could you exist in a place you were clearly _not_ meant to be in….and leave no trace? Hermione didn't understand it, and not understanding made her all the more terrified.

A voice rumbled from the shadows, causing Hermione to flinch,

"And what, may I ask, are you doing out of bed?" the potions professor demanded lazily, his voice showing very little concern. It was there, hidden between the passive layers and years of occlumency shielding.

"Researching." Hermione retorted, snapping the book shut in front of him. It was strange, that each day the witch found herself in conversation with two dead men. With professor Dumbledore it was different, he was more at peace with his own demise, despite such unfortunate circumstances. When Hermione looked at Severus Snape, she saw the blood leaking from his throat as his eyes were locked with Harry's. She saw the man who had belittled her for six years, thrown sneers instead of praise. She had _watched_ him die. And yet he stood in front of her, arms crossed just below his chest, eyes narrowed and his thin lips pursed. He may have been _younger_ than she'd ever seen him…but he was still…old in some ways. The lines of age and war were still there; all the pain and heartbreak that had been harboured for Lily was still trapped behind two obsidian eyes. He hid it well, but once she knew it was present it couldn't be lost again.

"Time travel?" He asked, scanning one of the many articles that lay scattered around her. She nodded in response. What did he expect her to say? _No actually I only came here to read over some newt level charms!_ Hermione rolled her eyes before reading over yet another article, in the hope that the dour man would take his leave.

"What….conclusions have you reached?" Hermione looked up at this, was the man genuinely concerned? Did he value her opinion? Most likely not, he clearly just wanted her gone and wanted to know her observations. Still, he'd paid more interest to her observations than he ever had when she was a student. Clearly he was yet to find out she was a Gryffindor.

"That things like this _rarely_ happen. The last time someone travelled further back than a few hours they died; I'm sure you've heard of the Eloise Mintumble case. However I researched into some actual time travel theorists and they deduced that time travel cannot create an alternate paradox, and that we're creating the present we already know." She explained, and Snape's eyebrow rose at her conclusion.

"You're suggesting that you are-"

"-meant to be here, yes. I wasn't sent here by a time turner, Professor Snape. In fact I'm not sure what did send me here. One minute I was…" She stopped herself upon remembering what she actually had been doing. Clearing out his personal rooms…because he had died. If she was correct, no matter how many times she told him to take anti venom with him at all times, his death was fixed and her being there wouldn't allow him to live.

"Yes well, there's not much on how to get back – only reports of time travel disappearance. Some people do return but there's obvious… _changes._ A handful of them just age, but a lot go mad. Either way no one returns _normal._ Something always happens, professor."

At her explanation Severus rolled his eyes. She had such a flair for the dramatic _, definitely a Gryffindor,_ he noted mentally. He looked her up and down when she mentioned aging. She couldn't have been more than twenty, twenty one…though he wouldn't ask, common courtesy forbade it.

"Has the headmaster discussed what you shall do until you return?" He asked once more, disliking how many questions he was asking. Once she was asleep Severus planned on taking the books she had looked over and educating himself in time travel.

"No actually. I did have something in mind though," Hermione hesitated knowing that her former potions professor wouldn't like it one bit.

"Has anyone been hired to teach defence yet?" The Gryffindor asked, and watched Snape's expression harden into a frown.

"Well, Miss Groves, I for one think it is an excellent idea." The headmaster declared smiling. Hermione looked over at Severus rather smugly; his expression looked to be the complete opposite of his employer's. Since Hermione, or Helena to everyone else, had made the suggestion that she take on the position of teaching defence against the dark arts, professor Snape demanded a meeting with Dumbledore.

"Headmaster this woman is barely of age, she has no qualifications to offer you…it is a ridiculous idea to even consider! What will the rest of the staff say when they want to know where she comes from? What will you tell them then?!" Severus demanded, glaring at both the headmaster and the woman sat mere inches away from him.

Hermione couldn't believe he was insulting her whilst knowing nothing about her! Or rather, she could believe, what she couldn't believe is that he was saying it when she was in the room.

"How dare you! I have eleven owls; ten of them were 'outstanding'. As for being barely of age I am 20, only a year younger than you were when you began teaching! I am perfectly capable of teaching defence, and if the headmaster allows it then I will be more than happy to prove it to you!" She retorted, her hair crackling with anger. The headmaster broke the tension with a soft chuckle, causing the two young adults to over to the old man,

"There's no need to fret Miss Groves, as I said, it is an excellent idea and one we shall put into practise. However Severus is correct in that the staff may have some questions. No matter, at one time home schooling was very popular. I suggest that if anyone asks, your parents taught you the ways of our world." Professor Dumbledore smiled, however Severus still seemed quite unhappy with the turn of events.

"What did you get your E in?" the potions master asked, and Hermione could almost feel the heat prickling against her cheeks.

"defence." She mumbled almost incoherently, looking down at the floor.

"How surprising." Sarcasm was dripping from Severus' response, but Hermione would not be taunted by him any longer. He may have bullied her throughout her school years, but as the Gryffindor had pointed out earlier she was in fact a woman and would not be belittled by him.

"I do not need to prove myself to you, Professor, but I am more than willing to invite you to a duel if that's what it takes!" she growled, almost instantly aware that her Gryffindor pride was taking over. Hermione was certain that Severus Snape was more than competent as a duellist, in fact she was most likely no match for him. However, she was willing to give it all she got if it meant that he'd stop behaving like such a child. The potioneer was exceedingly close to losing his temper and fighting with the idiotic woman right there in the headmaster's office. He managed to compose himself in the dark lord's presence, in front of so many thick headed students…but this woman was sure to be his undoing.

"I'm certain that won't be necessary Miss Groves. I'll announce it to the board at a later date….now if that is all, I've been told the house elves are preparing some roast beef and it's been playing on my mind all day." Headmaster Dumbledore declared jovially, already rising from his seat to take his leave – paying no attention to the quarrelling professors still in his office.

"Now Professor Snape I really must-" Hermione began pointing her finger in his direction, trying desperately to say what she'd wanted to since she'd arrived. Yet her former tutor decided he didn't want to listen, and headed towards the direction of the door. His ignorance irritated the young woman beyond belief, and with the flick of her hand the door shut before he had chance to reach it. Severus turned, his eyes locked in a deathly glare,

"And what Miss Groves, is so important that I _must_ hear it?!" Severus growled, steeling himself for whatever verbal abuse she had to throw at him.

"I know you think I'm too young, but I'm going to tell you this instant I won't accept it! I won't! I took your snide comments for years as your student, but we're closer in age now and I refuse to accept it anymore. You do not have to like me…but I respect you quite a bit sir, and I would appreciate it if you did the same." Hermione told him. She didn't demand it because the woman wasn't stupid…if she knew Severus Snape at all then she'd have to earn his respect. She wouldn't seek it out like before with essays that were 2ft longer than the requirement and her hand constantly raised in the air with an answer ready to regurgitate from her reading. No. Hermione would just…teach alongside him. They didn't have to be friends, in fact the Gryffindor wanted as little to do with him as possible, but she would not be treated like one of his students – she'd grown up, _and it was time he did the same_ she added mentally, suddenly grateful that she wasn't looking him straight in the eye, no doubt he'd have seen that.

Severus lingered for a moment and mulled over what Helena Groves had said. He knew he had taught her, or would soon teach her…though he didn't know when that would be. The headmaster knew, but of course for some reason he was given the rights to unlimited information – and Severus had to wait his turn, until Albus deemed it _necessary_ for the potions master to know. The woman before him was no longer a student, none of the children he had taught were so argumentative and demanding, not to his face by any means. The slytherin wasn't lost for words as such…he just knew the conversation could go no further. He wasn't going to apologise, Severus was far too stubborn for that. Instead he turned back to the direction of the door, his black robes billowing slightly behind him, and left the woman alone with her thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – hey guys it's been a while! I suddenly got muse for this and seeing as I'm gonna be writing my essay soon I thought I'd actually write something before, in case I have a meltdown and don't write for ages again. There are one or two cute moments in this chapter…but it's slightly rushed, and there's probably typos everywhere – so I'm sorry about that! I hope you like it anyway, and that you can forgive me for being so late with this! - Bex**

It became very easy to hide from Severus Snape after that. Hermione busied herself with lesson plans and ways to escape the dreadfully dull year of 1987. There were ideas of spells and charms involving time turners or the book which had presumably sent her back in time. However that book was nowhere to be seen…did it even exist yet? How would she know it when she saw it? So many black books were manufactured…could she just pick any? _Obviously not_ Hermione internally chastised herself before returning to her notes. He didn't bother her in her office…the defence office. It was like a strange dream unfolding before her eyes and she couldn't stop it. She'd only have a year before that job was over too in keeping with the curse, assuming the young witch wasn't killed off by then.

August seemed to dither away along with its sunny weather, and September brought greener leaves on the wimping willow, pre-autumn chills, and a new group of eleven year olds ready to be sorted and begin their seven year journey at Hogwarts. It was a strange feeling, watching the sorting from the high table. It was an out of body experience, being able to see the fear (and excited) stricken faces of children as they waited to be placed in their house. Hermione almost wished she'd placed bets on some of the sortings, as she knew most, if not all, and where they'd go. She almost forgot that Percy Weasley had been a child at some point, but she offered a small smile of support when he reached the hat, as she did to Penelope Clearwater and Oliver Wood, the last to be sorted.

Being sat on the high table she wasn't met with looks of suspicion from her colleagues or most of the students, with the exception of a few older students trying to work out where she'd came from. She was wedged between Professor Sprout and Hooch, both chatting away at each ear.

"Well Helena how did you find your first sorting?" Pomona whispered, before tucking into some of the broccoli on her plate,

"Oh it was fascinating Pro-Pomona. It makes me wonder where I'd have been sorted if I'd have been given the chance." Hermione replied, though her mind was elsewhere – particularly 1999 and what would be happening there. Would her friends be looking for her? Unless she was already back, or had never truly left…time really was confusing, and her entire dilemma brought on an unnecessary headache. She cast her eyes along the table towards Professor Snape, or Severus as she most likely had to call him. Or did she? He probably wouldn't like being on a first name basis with her….not that she cared what he liked. Hermione remembered all the abuse he'd thrown at her from 'insufferable know it all' right down to insulting the size of her teeth! Hermione's eyes narrowed briefly, before remembering the burdens the potions master faced…and all he would do for the young witch and her friends, particularly Harry. He was a mean, sour, and bitter man, but clearly he cared enough about just one woman to do all the things he did. It showed Hermione that Severus Snape was capable of caring…in his own way.

"Well Helena, what say you hm?!" Rolanda asked, grabbing her shoulder and lifting Hermione out of her reverie. The young witch looked back at the two with confusion, managing to mumble an apology before her colleague spoke again,

"Well old Sprout here thinks you'd be a hufflepuff, but I'm certain you're a ravenclaw…what do you think?!" She asked, the two women looking at the youngest witch on the high table. She answered without hesitation, her mind eager to leave the conversation,

"Most certainly Gryffindor….without a shadow of a doubt. " She smiled before tucking into her meal once more.

After that things had ran rather smoothly, she had been introduced at the feast as the new defence against the dark arts. Instead of giving a speech Hermione just stood and smiled, not willing to give anyone more memories of her than what was necessary. Would Bill, Percy and Oliver remember their defence professor in years to come, did they remember for a fraction of a second each time they saw her? Hermione wouldn't know…and she'd never ask either. If she ever returned that was.

For a while, Hermione thought she'd been dealing with the idea of time travel rather well, and hadn't faced the idea she could be stuck in 1987 forever…until the first day of classes. Despite offers from Minerva and other staff members, Hermione had assured them she'd find her own way around the castle, and decided to take a stroll before first classes begun. The young witch greeted the corridors like an old friend, certain that it would recognise her…or perhaps be kinder to her when she returned as a first year in a few years time herself. She knew the nooks and crannies of the old building all too well, from the hidden corridors, to alcoves behind tapestry. They were usually where students met for a quick snog before being caught…usually by Snape. Not that she'd know firsthand, she'd never had a school relationship, not counting what she had with Viktor of course.

Turning the corner Hermione collided with a student she didn't recognise; their books scattered across the floor.

"Oh I'm so sorry, let me get those!" Hermione began, not fully acknowledging who she was talking to. As she gathered their things she heard a voice she knew all too well.

"It's no trouble professor…you looking forward to your first day? I'm N-"

"Nymphadora Tonks, of course…the headmaster told me we had a metamorphmagus in our midsts. Pleasure to meet you." Hermione smiled weakly, as the girl transfigured to her true appearance, causing the professor's heart to stop for only a second…finding herself looking back at a dead woman. Ten years…that's all she had.

"Ah, the Professor warned you did he! Not to worry professor, I'll be no trouble in defence – it's one of my favourites!" the young girl grinned, though Hermione was absolutely certain the former was a lie. There was a reason she wouldn't make prefect status in her fifth year.

"Quite right too, I look forward to having you Miss Tonks." The girl scrunched her face up at that remark,

"Just Tonks professor, please! Anyway I'll be off…breakfast starts soon. The earlier you get there the better!" Tonks laughed before leaving for her food.

Tears sprung to Hermione's eyes, reality had struck a hard blow. It would be impossible to look the girl in the eyes without remembering how cold and empty they were as she lay next to Remus. Or how she would never really have the chance to be a mother, because the war had robbed her of that too. Would Teddy look like her? Would he be just as mischievous as she was? The more the young witch thought about it the harder the tears fell. Somehow her wandering had taken her to the tapestry corridor, too far from her own office, but quite close to Snape's Storeroom. At this point she didn't care where she went, as long as no one saw. A professor crying on their first day on the job, it would most probably go down in history. She didn't want the potions master to jeer at her…but at the moment in time she didn't give a damn….she wanted to mourn her lost friend, the one she'd have to face until she left.

Closing the door behind her, Hermione sagged against it and down to the floor. Nothing there to comfort her but the familiar smell of potion ingredients and the age of such an old small room the small woman began to sob. "Bloody war!" She groaned between cries, the list of the dead piling up…and the injured too. How strange it was to see Bill without his scar, and so many purebloods who would choose the wrong side – or muggle-borns that were soon to be hunted. Looking up Hermione was met with a figure donned in black towering over her. She stood up quickly, trying to hide her tears. But of course he died in such a cruel way, it was so painful – and for all his faults Severus didn't deserve it. "Miss Groves what-" but she cut him off, crying against his chest just for a moment. She couldn't tell him she was crying over him, but it gave Hermione comfort to be against him, to apologise without words for not getting to him sooner. Not a second later the defence professor stepped back, half mumbling an apology for invading his personal space.

"Miss Groves if you are unfit to take this position I think you will find you have left it far too late to res-"

"No no…it's not that. I erm saw someone…someone I wasn't expecting to see. I forgot she..I'm babbling forgive me. I'm fine now, thank you." And she turned to leave hoping to never mention what took place again, but it seemed Severus had other ideas as he placed his hands on her robes.

"Who?" He asked, before crossing his arms, awaiting an answer.

"I'm not sure I should say…"

"Miss Groves who?!"

"Oh alright it was Tonks…ah Miss Tonks. She's what thirteen? Fourteen? I just didn't expect her to look so young." Hermione began, her face falling into a frown as she choked back yet another sob. Severus seemed unsure of what to do with himself, clearly unable to console the young woman.

"I assume she did not make it?" Hermione merely nodded.

"I'm….sorry to hear of this. Miss Tonks is more than acceptable in her potions." He said, Hermione looking up at that. She was shocked to even hear this from him. Severus Snape did not compliment anyone not of his own house. She clearly hadn't been such a thorn in his side thus far, or he genuinely was sorry.

"She's going to make a brilliant auror….oh merlin! I've said too much again I'm sorry." Hermione half laughed between sniffles. Severus offered her a handkerchief before adding,

"Think nothing of it. Now if you'll excuse me I require my potions if I'm to prepare for my first class…something you may want to consider also. Good day Miss Groves." He picked up his ingredients and made to leave.

"Professor Snape…Helena, please."

"Miss- Helena." And he left.

Hermione thought it strange…he didn't shout for her being in his storeroom, tell her how silly she was for being emotional over something that hadn't even happened yet….he wasn't quite understanding but in fact patient. A word Hermione never thought she'd use to describe her old professor. She didn't expect him to pull her into a warm embrace…in fact that would've been quite awkward, but he didn't push her away, or hold her….he just let Hermione cry against his chest for the few moments she needed to. Strange. Perhaps he didn't hate the young woman like she initially thought, he may have held a grudge for her literally walking into a job he'd wanted for quite some time, but otherwise he could be – decent when he wanted to be. The thoughts felt foreign in her mind, she had defended him in the past, but was Hermione really complimenting Severus Snape? She shook her head in disbelief before leaving the room and heading to her first class.

"Hello fourth years! Welcome to the start of your defence lessons – I hope you enjoy them but more than anything that you learn something. This year we're going to cover curses, spells and a few more dark creatures than last year, those being revision more than anything else I hope. Does any of this sound vaguely familiar to what you did last year?" Hermione asked, smiling brightly at her students…only a few years younger than herself. She looked over Tonks and Charlie Weasley, who were nodding , along with the rest of her pupils, but with a sense of uncertainty.

"If not then you needn't worry, if you ever have any questions about anything then I'll point you in the right direction of a book, or we can speak more about it at another time."

A hand shot up, a face she vaguely recognised…perhaps there was a reason she wasn't too familiar with the boy.

"How old are you professor?" Hermione found herself rolling her eyes, it was only a matter of time before someone had asked and it was far better to out the elephant in the room early on.

"Not that it's any of your business Mister…Jenkins, but old enough to teach you and the rest of the students here to a high standard. Will that suffice?" She asked, trying to muster up her best Umbridge stern smile. Hermione wasn't sure what that would achieve, but she didn't wish to go over the subject again, after being nitpicked by Severus only a few weeks before.

"Yes professor."

"Good, now I suggest we get on!" She smiled, before guiding the students to the correct page and introducing the new creatures they were going to learn about such as Erklings and Dug Bogs. Her class seemed somewhat receptive, though Tonks was insistent on morphing her face into whatever creature she saw in their book, causing a dismissive look from Hermione…trying not to laugh, and it seemed threatening to take points didn't stop her. Nonetheless the new defence against the dark arts professor was in full swing and actually enjoying her class until a ball of paper came flying in her direction. Of course a simple non verbal wave of her hand and the ball went veering off to the right, but it stopped the professor, and her class, in their tracks.

"Mr Jenkins it seems you either have terrible aim or wish to be in detention for the rest of the term. Which one is it?" Hermione asked, shocking herself at how Snape like she sounded. Perhaps she was being too harsh on him…but then she'd seen the guilty look on his face as the paper took off.

"The first one Professor honestly I was aiming f-"

"You shouldn't be aiming for anyone Mr Jenkins. Fifteen points from Gryffindor, and next time it'll be a detention with Filch. Are we understood?" The boy nodded silently, and Hermione continued on with her class, thankful to get it out of the way.

Once the day was over Hermione sagged into her chair, thankful to have some time to herself. She didn't want to be a scary professor, she wanted to help people. She didn't know whether to be the best teacher…or the worst. She'd never spoken to anyone who'd been at Hogwarts about their defence teacher Miss Groves…if they had; well it would've been helpful. She'd taken some points, not many…but a few. The most were taken, unfortunately, from her own house. However she'd given just as many as she'd taken to all houses she'd taught, believing in nothing but equality – and the students deserved it.

On the high table for their evening meal Hermione found herself seated next to Severus, most likely due to being so late. Not that she minded of course, in fact she was happy to sit there so she could speak with him,

"Professor Snape I just wanted to say thank you for," she stopped as she saw him cast muffliato, forgetting it was his own creation she smiled before continuing,

"Oh right, well I'd just like to say thank you I didn't mean to use your rooms they were just there…"

"It is of no issue Miss Groves, please see to it that it does not become a habit." He replied promptly.

"It's Helena, and I actually had something to ah…ask of you." He merely raised his eyebrows suggesting that she continue. Hermione looked around before she began, just to be certain that no one, except the Headmaster no doubt, could listen in on their conversation,

"Well I don't know how long I'm going to be here…but I think we'd all prefer it to be once the school year it out. But I...my knowledge only goes so far. I could of course ask the Headmaster for his help but I thought, with your potion abilities and well…your knowledge on a lot of things really – you could help me with this project? If you have time of course I don't want to impose" He held his hand up to stop her speaking, as he began to consider her offer.

"I shall consider it…Helena. I would like to see your notes and how you think you can bring potions into this predicament. We've been silent for far too long to the ears of everyone else; do not speak of it any longer." Severus instructed before releasing the charm and speaking of something rather more plain and uninteresting than before,

"It has come to my attention that you have docked almost forty points from the Gryffindor house today Professor Groves, I had no idea you came to Hogwarts with the intention of giving Minerva a stroke." He noted, pushing his food around his plate,

"And I gave twenty back. I'm fair Severus, the students get what they deserve…I do not favour _any_ house. You needn't worry; if your slytherins misbehave they'll get the same treatment." She replied half laughing, the use of his name almost going unnoticed by the two of them. Before Hermione had chance to apologise Pomona piped up a few seats down,

"You see, that is the nature of a true hufflepuff Helena! I'm certain you'd have been in my house." She chortled, waving her fork around as she spoke, but Severus could only roll his eyes.

"Incorrect Pomona. It would seem Helena is most definitely a Gryffindor." He stated as if it was obvious…though Hermione couldn't remember telling him. It was clear that the young witch was a lion through and through, and apparently Severus Snape didn't mind that much.


End file.
